There can be several ways to define a mother tongue. One such definition derives from the language which you grew up and hence speak more fluently and often. Another definition claims that a mother tongue is the language of one’s ancestry and hence need to be learnt and spoken. In most cases, both definitions compliment each other.

While my parents will argue that my mother tongue is Mandarin, it was not a language I grew up speaking prior to formal schooling. In fact, if you were to attempt to pinpoint my accent, you would have trouble doing so. My accent is certainly one of mixed origin, depending on who I am socialising with at the time. However, if you really listened to it, you would be able to hear both the Asian and English accents battling for supremacy. When Paul first met me, he said I sounded more like an Asian with my tonality and pronunciations. Since moving out of home, my English accent has taken a primary spot in my speech, even though my Asian accent does sneak in every now and again.

In the six years of my schooling, I learnt a great deal of Mandarin, including reading and writing the characters associated with the language in novels and books. These days, much of my knowledge in character recognition has been suppressed in such a manner that I may recognise the character visually but not recall the definition or pronunciation of the word before me. While part of me still wants to uphold the knowledge I had once possessed, another part of me wished I never learnt the language as it associates me with a cultural I don’t want to be part of.

The dilemma has been made slightly more complicated by the fact that Paul has shown an interest in learning the language. I know he is slightly frustrated by my unwillingness to delve into the language, however, I also know he understands my predicament.

Unfortunately, these days, it is beneficial to have knowledge of a second language. Paul was recently able to put some basic phrases I had taught him to good use at his workplace and it has served him well. With the constant migration of Asians into the Australia society, being able to speak Mandarin has slowly become an advantage. For me, this has become a double-edged sword.

As mentioned in the first chapter, a name is the fundamental form of identity for any human being. However, when you have been forced to legally change your name as I have for various reasons, it also becomes complicated when attempting to apply for jobs where knowledge of an Asian language is a requirement. I would surmise that most potential employers would look at my application and instantly assume I was a Westerner by my current name. It wouldn’t be until they read my cover letter, they would realise my formative schooling was in Mandarin. I know, from personal experience, that many Asian employers would have the same racial prejudices as their Western counterparts.

I normally stay away from any activity which involves needing to speak Mandarin Chinese if I can help it. However, sometimes it becomes unavoidable. I was working at a post office for a short spell and attended to a number of customers of Asian descent. Giving that the area in which the post officer was situated was moderately occupied by other Asian shop owners, it was inevitable that some of the customers would be speaking an Asian language of some description.

One regular customer was an older Chinese woman who had come in the pay some bills. She took one look at me and started to speak in Chinese in front of my Caucasian boss. While I understood everything she asked me, I couldn’t bring myself to answer back in Chinese. I just replied all her queries in English.

There were two reasons for this. Firstly, my Chinese was still very rusty and I am ashamed to admit that I couldn’t remember the Chinese word for “cents”. Last thing I wanted was to show this woman how badly I could speak. I noticed the next time she ame to pay the bill, she didn’t bother trying to communicate verbally. Instead, she used hand gestures to get her message across but still seemed polite enough while doing so.

Secondly (and possibly the most important reason), I didn’t want this woman to return to her circle of Asian friends to tell them I was able to communicate in their language. I have lived with enough Asians to know that they like to stick to their own kind and ignore anyone else who doesn’t speak the language. Last thing I wanted was to become the post office’s poster girl for the Chinese speaking community.

Just a quick point of note, the post office has since been sold to an Asian businessman and I left the position to pursue my artistic endeavours. A few days after the sale, the new owner approached me to see if I wanted to come back to which I politely refused. I know my nationality was the only reason why he wanted me back because two of his other staff members were Asians. Not only did I not even know the new owner (I had known the previous owner at least five years prior and was comfortable working for him), I didn’t want to end up working in an environment surrounded by Asians.